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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25363159">with a whisper (we will tame the vicious seas)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlkaashi/pseuds/arcanum'>arcanum (owlkaashi)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Angst, Doctor!Iwaizumi, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hajime's parents are only mentioned once lmao, Happy Birthday Oikawa Tooru!, Legend of the Blue Sea-esque, M/M, Merfolk!Oikawa, it only has some elements of it really</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 08:00:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,296</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25363159</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlkaashi/pseuds/arcanum</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Tooru never asked him to stay and Hajime never offered. So Hajime makes a promise he has every intention to keep.</p>
  <p>    <i>(I’ll come find you. Always.)</i><br/></p>
</blockquote>A child of the sea and a child of tragedy meet.
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>73</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>İwaoi(hasbroheybro)</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>with a whisper (we will tame the vicious seas)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hey hey hey!!! so hq is done and on tooru's birthday so catch me crying and sobbing like there's no tomorrow uwu. to those who have watched the legend of the blue sea, this only has elements from it, some match and some don't. </p><p>also, yes the title is a lyric from a song called <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oQDsKAdHFao">turning page by sleeping at last</a>. </p><p>will i ever be able to write a fic without referencing at least one song? maybe. but this is not that fic lmao.</p><p>so without further ado, enjoy the fic!! :DDD</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> There is a story, a myth, from long ago that every man, woman, and child have heard of. Passed down from one generation to another, the story differs every time because of two things: The first is to fit the audience. The second is dependent on the former, it either serves to give hope to the dreamer or to give warning to the wary. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Consider the sea, its depth and its vastness. The way it holds innumerous unknown forms of life beneath what has been charted.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Over the course of the history of literature, from the stories orally passed down to the written, the creature of myth has been called many names, a different version for every land. To name a few: Mermaid, Siren, Undine, Havmand, Havfrue, Meerfrau, and Merfolk.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Regardless of what they were called or how they were portrayed, they were either an omen for the believer or a fairytale for the skeptical. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> But most of all, they are the children of the sea. </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> — </em> An excerpt from <em> History’s Creatures of Myth </em>(1989)</p><p> </p><p>›⟩⟨‹</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa has never been up to the surface in all his 8 years of existence, his father had forbidden it and his mother would tell him stories to soothe his curiosity and his desire to surface. Or at least it’s what he thinks his mother had hoped the stories would do.</p><p> </p><p>Where Tooru’s father is calm and amenable—just not about his son swimming up to the surface—his mother is passionate and unyielding and a spitfire. While he may have his father’s cool demeanor, he is still only one part of him, and the other part is as much of a spitfire and as tenacious as his mother.</p><p> </p><p>So really, him going up to the surface with or without his father’s permission or knowledge isn’t something he wholly blames on himself. It wasn’t much of a debate in his head either.</p><p> </p><p>And if he were to be honest, he was so much more like his mother anyway—his father can attest to it—headstrong, steadfast, and a lionheart.</p><p> </p><p>He knows, he knows, he <em> knows </em> he shouldn’t be doing what he’s doing but curiosity paired with stubbornness and pettiness never did make for a great decision-making skill. </p><p> </p><p>Oikawa has never been up to the surface in all his 8 years of existence. He makes up for it now by doing exactly what he’s told not to do.</p><p> </p><p>The surface breaks. He breathes in the air and it tastes of something he’s never tasted before, he expected as much but he’s still just as pleasantly surprised. He looks around and sees—what he knows to be, from his mother’s stories—the sun, half hidden, on the horizon and the sky painted with yellow and orange ombré. </p><p> </p><p>He keeps looking and he knows he’s not far from the shore and if he looks a little farther, he can make the shape of–</p><p> </p><p>A ship. <em> There’s something odd about it</em>, he thinks, <em> but so does everything I see right now</em>.</p><p> </p><p>He swims closer until he’s no more than five fins away from the ship. It’s an enormous thing and there really is something truly odd about it. Not unless the black wisps coming from the bright light that’s consuming the thing was of something normal but alas, he knows it isn’t.</p><p> </p><p>He debates whether to swim closer or not but before he can give himself an answer, he’s already within a fin’s reach. Unsure how to proceed, he stays hidden in the water with only his head poking out. Until he hears a splash somewhere near, he looks around to see if he’s been spotted or found but it was neither. He swims to the other side of the ship just in time to see a human boy sinking deeper into the sea.</p><p> </p><p>The boy’s eyes are half-lidded and he guesses as much that this one can’t swim and is about to be fully unconscious in minutes. He dives down and wraps an arm around the boy’s torso to carry him up to the surface, it’s a short and easy trip from where they were in the water to the top but it’s the trip from where they are now to the shore that’s proving to be difficult.</p><p> </p><p>He does it anyway. </p><p> </p><p>By the time they reach the shore, the boy is cold, wet and unconscious and unsure if he’s alive. He gets a confirmation that the boy is still alive when they cough up water with eyes closed. The boy remains unconscious but alive and from the way they grimace in their state, he knows they’re in pain,</p><p> </p><p>So Tooru does what his mother would do when he was in pain. He sings.</p><p> </p><p>It’s a familiar tune, one that he knows by heart, honeyed and euphonious. A lullaby, his mother had called it.</p><p> </p><p>As the lullaby comes to an end, the boy’s look of grimace is soothed and the furrow of his brows eased. He looks peaceful and Tooru takes it as his cue to leave, after all, he had already been gone for too long.</p><p> </p><p>When he comes home, his mother is waiting for him. There’s a knowing smile on her lips and a teasing look in her eyes whereas he looked sheepish, a little bit guilty, and mildly surprised at his mother’s reaction. He knows she knows he swam up to the surface but she makes no comment about it nor is there any disapproving look from her.</p><p> </p><p>If anything, she looks proud and smug.</p><p> </p><p>“You really are so much like me, Tooru.” She laughs melodiously.</p><p> </p><p>His father, on the other hand, was clueless. Thankfully so because carrying a boy to the shore was taxing enough for him, his father’s reprimanding will surely only tire him out more than he already was.</p><p> </p><p>When he goes to sleep, he dreams about the boy and the way he eased at the lullaby.</p><p> </p><p>›⟩⟨‹</p><p> </p><p>When he wakes up, he mulls over whether he should come back up and risk getting caught or stay and be bored out of his mind. The answer comes to him fifteen minutes later.</p><p> </p><p>He’s always found thrill in breaking the rules. This isn’t the first time and yesterday certainly won’t be the last.</p><p> </p><p>Within minutes, he’s back at the surface. Taking the sight and the air in. He swims to somewhere near the shore, where the water is shallow and full of rocks. He sits on top of one of the smoother rocks, he looks to the far horizon and watches as the waves pull away and crash back into the water. He hums the lullaby again and the tides move in time with it, from the soft crescendos to its steady rhythm.</p><p> </p><p>When it ends, there's a voice speaking up from behind him.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, I found you."</p><p> </p><p>He turns around and he's met with the boy he had saved. His heart beats in staccato and he is about ready to jump back into the water when the boy continues.</p><p> </p><p>"Wait! I didn't mean to startle you. I just wanted to thank you for saving me." </p><p> </p><p>He blinked owlishly at the boy, willing himself to process the words. </p><p> </p><p>"I'm Hajime. Iwaizumi Hajime." </p><p> </p><p>It takes a while before Tooru responds but he does.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm Tooru. Oikawa Tooru."</p><p> </p><p>The boy–Hajime, smiles a boyish grin and Tooru finds himself smiling too.</p><p> </p><p>Hajime asks if he could sit beside him and he reluctantly agrees, Hajime keeps a good distance between them and Tooru couldn't help but ask.</p><p> </p><p>"You don't seem surprised to find a merfolk, Iwa-chan. Why?"</p><p> </p><p>Hajime shrugs, ignoring the nickname. "My mother used to tell me stories about your people and I've always believed her just as much as she believed in you."</p><p> </p><p><em> Used to? </em>He wanted to ask until it suddenly came back to him.</p><p> </p><p>He nods in understanding. "Was she on the ship?"</p><p> </p><p>Hajime nods. "My father too."</p><p> </p><p>Tooru stays silent in quiet sympathy and truth be told, he didn't know what to say to make him feel better either. </p><p> </p><p>They stay silent for the rest of their time, it's companionable and easy, as they watch the birds fly, the swaying of the trees, and the rise and the fall of the tides.</p><p> </p><p>›⟩⟨‹</p><p> </p><p>Everyday, without fail, Tooru will swim to the surface and to the rocky shore. There, Hajime waits for him.</p><p> </p><p>Their silence turns into laughs and playful bickering, their friendship growing with every crack of a joke, a shy smile, and boisterous laughter.</p><p> </p><p>Some of their days are spent apart, Hajime to school and Tooru–</p><p> </p><p>On those days, Tooru, without fail, visits what has become their spot—always, <em> always</em>, hoping that Hajime would surprise him and be there waiting. Soaks himself with the warmth of the sun and wishes Hajime was with him.</p><p> </p><p>›⟩⟨‹</p><p> </p><p>4 years passed by in a blur, they grow, they change, but they still watch the sunset from their spot. </p><p> </p><p>(Somewhere in those 4 years, his father learns of his secret. He got an earful but his father finally relents, especially when his mother starts scolding his father.</p><p> </p><p>It was a sight to see but needless to say, he and his father silently agree to never get on her bad side ever again.)</p><p> </p><p>Today, Tooru goes to their spot a little earlier than they always did. He’s half elated and half terrified, the feelings tangle and knot inside his stomach enough to make him aware how cold the water actually is.</p><p> </p><p>He has practiced enough times to do it on will but it doesn’t make it any less heart-stopping. He slowly breathes in, closing his eyes for the briefest of moments and then opening them again as he breathes out. The tension in his shoulders eases and then, as enticing as the first time he did it, the turquoise scales of his tail slowly vanish and leaves him with two, pale human legs.</p><p> </p><p>He gives himself a quiet laugh before heading to where his mother had hidden clothes for him. He gets dressed quickly and heads back but when he gets there, Hajime is already waiting with his back turned to him.</p><p> </p><p>“Iwa-chan! Over here!” </p><p> </p><p>He’s never seen Hajime turn around so fast before that even he gets a whiplash from it. He grins at him and waves. A pufferfish pales in comparison to the look on Hajime’s face when he realizes Tooru is <em> standing </em> in front of him—<em>actually </em>standing, with two legs and ten toes.</p><p> </p><p>“Tooru, what-” Hajime gestures vaguely at him- “how?”</p><p> </p><p>“Silly, Iwa-chan! I shifted of course! Did no one ever tell you we could shift?” </p><p> </p><p>Hajime still has the brilliant impression of a pufferfish look on his face but he shakes his head.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, now you know! Show me around, Iwa-chan?” He tilts his head to the side in question.</p><p> </p><p>Hajime, much like the first time Tooru had done, blinked owlishly at him before responding.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you want to see first?”</p><p> </p><p>Hajime might as well have shown him the whole world.</p><p> </p><p>›⟩⟨‹</p><p> </p><p>The thing about gravity is this: Whatever comes up must come down eventually. Throw an object into the air and it will come right back down, gravity is grounding.</p><p> </p><p>The thing about stories is this: It has a beginning, a middle, and an end. Everything that begins must come to an end at some point, in one way or another.</p><p> </p><p>Their goodbyes go just like so: They’re 18 and Tooru is still the same, turquoise scale and sea-bound. Hajime, however, is still gruff but off to college. They spend the whole day together and then the next, and the next, until the very last day of summer—until the very last goodbye. </p><p> </p><p>Tooru never asked him to stay and Hajime never offered. So Hajime makes a promise he has every intention to keep.</p><p> </p><p>(<em>I’ll come find you. Always.</em>)</p><p> </p><p>There’s a strange beauty in endings, a peculiar charm in the inevitable doom. Endings are the greatest reminder that there is always something new to look forward to. Without endings, nothing can start.</p><p> </p><p>Tooru just never realized that the new thing he would be looking forward to is to be in love with someone who said goodbye until their silhouette is the only thing he sees.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em> People who visit the shoreline always mysteriously find scattered white pearls. </em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>›⟩⟨‹</p><p> </p><p>A beginning, a middle, and an end. The three parts of a story. No one ever said that stories are told strictly in that order.</p><p> </p><p>Hajime is 28 and he’s in the middle of his rotations, the nights are longer and rougher. He’s tired and fatigued from the clinic but then he’s being called to assist in the A&amp;E. A hit and run with one victim, critically injured.</p><p> </p><p>He can see the commotion from where he is, can see his mentor do chest compressions. It’s not a new sight but he stops a few steps away all the same. </p><p> </p><p>The sight of the A&amp;E in frantic tones and rushed movements is something he’s seen about a hundred times before. What is new is Tooru, bleeding, bruised, and half dead.</p><p> </p><p>The constant whine of the flatline resounds in Hajime’s ears, he forgets to breathe. The chest compression stops, the cacophony of barked orders halted in favour of silence, ready to call in his time of death.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Beep.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The first heartbeat is enough for the flurry of movements to continue.</p><p> </p><p>It’s enough that Hajime</p><p> </p><p>                                    can finally</p><p> </p><p>                                                   <em> breathe again </em>.</p><p> </p><p>›⟩⟨‹</p><p> </p><p>When Tooru wakes up, there’s something heavy and warm on his arm. His vision is still hazy but he looks down to see black hair. He knows—more like he hopes—who it is.</p><p> </p><p>“Iwa-chan?” His voice is quiet and hoarse from being unused.</p><p> </p><p>He’s heard anyway when Hajime stirs and looks up. They lock gazes for a few minutes, both unsure of what to say.</p><p> </p><p>Tooru tries for a joke but Hajime cuts him off. In a split second, Hajime’s arms are around him and he’s left reeling from it. He’s stunned but he returns the gesture, circling his arms around Hajime’s middle.</p><p> </p><p>Hajime doesn’t let go, he doesn’t seem to plan on it any time soon.</p><p> </p><p>“Iwa-chan, as much as I love this, you’re not exactly very light.” He huffs out a laugh.</p><p> </p><p>Hajime only burrows his face further into the crook of his neck.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t care.” His answer comes out muffled and wouldn’t have been comprehensible if he weren’t so close.</p><p> </p><p>Tooru only laughs and clings to Hajime all the more.</p><p> </p><p>“You promised to find me but it looks like it’s me who found you, Iwa-chan.” Hajime pulls back to see the soft smile on his lips.</p><p> </p><p>Hajime stares at him for a long while and Tooru could only tilt his head in question.</p><p> </p><p>“Haj-” he’s cut off again but this time, it’s with Hajime’s lips against his.</p><p> </p><p>His kiss is rough and sweet, chaste and fervent, and a long time coming from the both of them. Tooru realizes it’s taking him too long to respond because Hajime is about to pull away and- <em> dammit</em>, <em> no</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Tooru places a hand on Hajime’s nape—the other on his cheek—and pulls him back in and feels him let out a breath of relief. </p><p> </p><p>(<em>And oh, what a relief it truly is. Hajime bears no religion, praises no god nor goddess but here in Tooru’s lips, he finally finds one.  </em></p><p> </p><p><em> And Tooru is both sacred and profane.</em>)</p><p> </p><p>Outside, the sun hides behind the grey clouds and a drizzle starts. </p><p> </p><p>›⟩⟨‹</p><p> </p><p>As the human expression goes: When it rains, it pours.</p><p> </p><p>It’s a sunny thursday afternoon but the barest hints of autumn breeze makes itself known.</p><p> </p><p>Tooru’s cheeks are dusted pink as he takes a walk along the park, listening to the chirping of the birds and watching as children laugh and run around. It’s a picturesque scene, reminding him of shallow waters and rocky shores, of festival lights and a canorous lullaby—something he hopes to have with Hajime for the rest of his life.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t linger a moment more but he takes his time walking to the store. </p><p> </p><p>He’s about to pick up a milk bread from the stand when he notices that his hand is trembling, not intensely but enough to notice it at first glance. It’s then, too, that he feels his heart painfully constrict from where it rests.</p><p> </p><p>The world goes quiet but there is a high-pitched whine in his ears, and feels the coldness of the tiles seep through the material of his trousers. <em> When did I kneel, anyway?  </em></p><p> </p><p>His vision goes black.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Hajime wakes to the shrill of his alarm and blindly reaches for his phone on his nightstand to turn it off. He flips to his side to face the other direction, hoping to see Tooru beside him.</p><p> </p><p>He isn’t</p><p> </p><p>Hajime bolts upright and is on the verge of panicking when he sees the yellow sticky note stuck to his lamp.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Iwa-chan, </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I’m out to get groceries but I’ll be back soon! There’s food in the microwave if you’re hungry. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>  - Tooru </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He breathes out in relief and lets himself fall back into his bed. Five minutes later and he’s back up, heading to the kitchen. He eats, he washes the dishes, he puts them back but still no sign of Tooru.</p><p> </p><p>He pads back to their bedroom to get his phone, he’s halfway inside when the front door opens.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m home, Iwa-chan!”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“Welcome home, Tooru.” He hears Hajime call from their bedroom.</p><p> </p><p>He heads for the kitchen right away and sets down the brown bags on the kitchen counter. He places the contents of the bags inside their respective cupboards and Hajime helps.</p><p> </p><p>He’s about to reach for the door of the cupboard to close it when he feels his heart painfully contract again, this time, he whimpers. He hangs on to the counter, his knuckles turning white from his grip.</p><p> </p><p>Hajime’s holding him up in an instant, his tone is frantic but not loud. “Tooru?”</p><p> </p><p>›⟩⟨‹</p><p> </p><p>Tooru’s heart aches. Literally.</p><p> </p><p>His chest cradles his tender heart with little to no grace. There’s nothing more terrifying than to be petrified of one’s own heart. To have your own heart be against you.</p><p> </p><p>It’s a surreal thing to hear your heartbeat, to hear it pound like a warning drum whether in excitement or in fear. He thinks back to the first time he swam up to the surface, that same fateful day he had found Hajime. He remembers the loud pounding of his heart in his ears as he reaches and breaks the surface, and then its frantic beating as he rushes to shore with Hajime in his arms.</p><p> </p><p>It’s a dreadful thing to feel your heartbeat, to feel it grow heavy and solid like an anchor whether in a grim reminder or in the recollection of a bittersweet memory. He has an anchor for a heart, he learns, and it only grows heavier as it becomes clearer what he must do. He has an anchor for a heart but it only grows softer with every beat it takes for the boy he had saved and the man who promised to always find him.</p><p> </p><p>Day by day, Oikawa hears the call of the sea like a siren song and his heart drags like how a smoker will put off a good cigar. The feeling is few and far in between but with every crash of the wave, the anchor gets heavier and the warning drum grows louder.</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa knows what has to be done. But the problem isn’t about knowing, it’s about a choice between what he wants to do and what he should do. Torn between what’s right and what’s easy.</p><p> </p><p>In the end, he chooses to take it on faith. Faith in Hajime’s promise and the man himself.</p><p> </p><p>›⟩⟨‹</p><p> </p><p>“Tooru, you have to tell me what’s going on.” Hajime’s tone isn’t commanding, it isn’t even sharp, but Tooru grimaces all the same.</p><p> </p><p>“Iwa-chan, do you still remember the stories your mother told you about merfolks?” As confused as Hajime is, he nods.</p><p> </p><p>“Did she ever tell you what happens to the heart of a merfolk when they’ve been gone too long from the sea? Especially when they leave because of love?”</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t say anything but he nods again.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course, it could be remedied with requited love.” Tooru takes a deep breath. “But sometimes, when the heart is too weak to function, even requited love will not be enough.”</p><p> </p><p>Hajime, even without further explanation, knew what Tooru needed. He cups Tooru’s face and puts their foreheads together.</p><p> </p><p>“Then go back to the sea and take me with you. I’m not going to leave you.” Not a hint of doubt in his voice or a quiver in his resolve.</p><p> </p><p>“Hajime, I don’t know how long I’ll need to heal. It could be a month, a year, three years.” He gives him a small, sad smile, hoping he’d understand. “There’s not even a guarantee that I <em> will </em>heal.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t care. I’m staying with you. I’m not letting go of you again.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hajime, you can’t-”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” his tone is final and indignant, “you don’t tell me what I can and can’t do. This is my choice.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re my choice.” His voice is softer, quieter.</p><p> </p><p>Tooru smiles and kisses him, chaste and wholehearted—hoping that Hajime could feel everything he’s feeling. <em> And this is my choice </em>, he wants to say.</p><p> </p><p><em> I’m sorry </em> , he thinks, <em> I’m sorryI’msorryI’msorryI’mso- </em></p><p> </p><p>Halfway through, Hajime realizes what Tooru’s doing and tries to pull back. He fights but Tooru holds on until his resolve grows weak and his memories fade. </p><p> </p><p>Tooru wipes away the tears on Hajime’s cheeks. His eyes are closed, reminding him of the boy he had saved all those years ago. The grimace is back on his face along with the furrow on his brows.</p><p> </p><p>So Tooru does what his mother would do when he was in pain—the same thing he had done that night. He sings.</p><p> </p><p>And just like that, the grimace is soothed from his face and the furrow of his brows smoothed.</p><p> </p><p>Hajime dreams of turquoise scales and a brown hair, of sunsets and a rocky shore. A lullaby burrows deep within his heart and feels it splinter in his chest.</p><p> </p><p>›⟩⟨‹</p><p> </p><p>When Hajime wakes up, it’s with a startle and an agonizing burn in his heart. He aches and he misses, and something coils tightly in his stomach. He frantically looks around his room, desperately searching for something—<em>anything</em>—missing. </p><p> </p><p>There isn’t.</p><p> </p><p>(But there is a pink pearl waiting for him in his nightstand.)</p><p> </p><p>›⟩⟨‹</p><p> </p><p>Day by day, Iwaizumi feels the pull of the sea like a wave, trying to coax him back home, and his heart soars but the crash never comes; like a thrown object with no gravity to pull it back down. </p><p> </p><p>It’s a strange thing, to feel as though if he waits a little longer by the shoreline, he would suddenly remember something. And it’s ironic because he doesn’t even know what he has forgotten. He pines for a time that probably never was.</p><p> </p><p>Four years of yearning for something—or someone—that may never have existed at all and he still keeps coming back. Here, by the shore of what he used to call home.</p><p> </p><p>Here, by the edge of the shallow end. Waiting for the unknown (and the <em> forgotten</em>).</p><p> </p><p>›⟩⟨‹</p><p> </p><p>He’s unsure what came over him to stop by a small café but there is familiarity. It’s not familiar in a way that he’s been there before but familiar in the way something in his chest tugs, nagging him to see.</p><p> </p><p>He orders something simple, pays, and chooses to sit by the window where the view of the sea is unobstructed. It’s a breathtaking view even from where he is, the sky is a beautiful azure and the sea a perfect reflection of it.</p><p> </p><p>His coffee is placed in front of him just as the door opens and in walks another customer, he thanks the server and pays no mind to the others. That is, until he hears a silvery voice. And that silvery voice starts humming a honeyed and euphonious tune. <em> A lullaby</em>, a disembodied voice says somewhere in the back of his head. The tune carries a memory he can’t quite place in time.</p><p> </p><p>(<em>The splinters in his chest slowly crawl back together. It’s painful and torturous and </em> <b> <em>burning</em></b><em>. And oh, how it burns.</em>)</p><p> </p><p>Part of him knows that it would make no difference if he saw the owner of the voice—surely it’s impossible to remember the voice of someone he has never met before and even more unlikely that he’ll suddenly know them when he sees them. A part of him <em> knows </em> but a bigger part of him <em> hopes </em>.</p><p> </p><p>And so hope he does.</p><p> </p><p>He looks up just in time to see a mop of brown hair exit the café. He takes his hope, his chances, and his instinct and lets himself be led by it. It leads him out of the café and to the mop of brown curls 10 feet away from him.</p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me.” He calls, loud and clear enough for the other to hear.</p><p> </p><p>The man stops on the spot but he doesn’t turn around.</p><p> </p><p>There’s a pause between them and the air shifts ever so slightly, the smell of the sea is stronger and the sun burns a little brighter.</p><p> </p><p>“Do I–” he stops as the stranger finally turns around. </p><p> </p><p>A voice. A face. And now-</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Iwa-chan.”</p><p> </p><p>-a name. It’s sweet and familiar and at the tip of his tongue.</p><p> </p><p>The crash finally comes—it’s raucous but calming, a perfect contradiction of itself like the man in front of him—and gravity finally grounds him again.</p><p> </p><p>He lets out a breath of relief and he smiles. Hajime has kept his promise after all.</p><p> </p><p>“Found you.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i have nothing to say for myself but i do hope you enjoyed it! thank you for reading!!!</p><p>(also, i know it isn't clear how long they stayed together before tooru's choice to go but it was a pretty long time)</p><p>if it feels like there are missing scenes, it's bc there are scenes that just didn't make the final cut (but maybe i'll post them what y'all think?).</p><p>come and say hi to me on socmed! I'm <a href="https://twitter.com/akaamshikei">akaamshikei</a>!<br/>or if you want to ask me anything, <a href="https://curiouscat.qa/akaamshikei">ask me here!</a></p><p>Edit 10/29/20: huh, i went over my finished works and caught a few mistakes here so yeah lmao</p></blockquote></div></div>
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